The Seer
by ericaofthemoon
Summary: What if Gyda hadn't died during the illness that spread through Kattegat? What if instead of the fever killing her, it had made her... different? Set during season 4. (Because this story will be written as the season is unfolding, at some point the events of this story will veer away from the televised storyline - because... well, I can't predict the future.)
1. Chapter 1

I do not own History Channel's Vikings.

Chapter One

The snow was soft against her bare feet. It awakened her. And made her feel closer some how to Bjorn. She stood at the base of the hills, just outside of Kattegat. Her shoes rested on top of the snow next to her, collecting drifting snow in their soles. Gyda closed her eyes, stretching her arms out in front of her, if only she could feel…

"What are you doing?"

King Ragnar Lothbrok stood not but ten feet behind her, smiling with curiosity. His daughter was strange to him, and strange to everyone in Kattegat. But she was his daughter.

"I'm worried for Bjorn," Gyda stated, and then added,"You are very quiet in the snow."

Ragnar smiled, but it looked false to Gyda's eyes, "Your brother may or may not be back."

Gyda flinched at the statement. Her father was hard and kind. A mixture that made him an odd form of likeable that people just couldn't stay away from.

"He killed a bear yesterday. But he is wounded," The young woman stated simply. She turned to put on her shoes as Ragnar stared at her back.

The king's mouth twitched, "How do you know? Did you speak with him?"

Gyda's brown eyes lifted from her shoes, "No. I just know. I always know."

Ragnar didn't question her further. She unnerved him. They had all assumed she was slightly addled from her illness as a child. She often rambled nonsense after the fever. For years no one took to heart her stories. But she had foretold Athelstan's death. And that was something. And now she stood ankle deep in the snow, speaking of her brother. The viking king shivered.

"He's alive though," Ragnar said.

It was a statement, not a question.

"My brother would not die so easily father," Gyda smiled.

And her smile was infectious. She had blossomed into a beautiful woman. But she was no warrior like Lagertha or himself. She was lovely and smart and dainty. She had studied Athelstan's tongue and could read his words and his maps. She could paint and draw. She could make scrolls from the trees and read the stars. She could make medicines from the plants and take the salt from seawater to make it pure.

Yes, Gyda was as pure as fresh water.

"Father?" She questioned.

"Yes Gyda?"

"Let's go back to the village?"

"Yes. Let's," Ragnar allowed his daughter to loop her arm through his. Her head resting against his shoulder as they walked.

Kattegat was blooming with activity when they entered. Gyda's step brothers raced forward to greet their father as if he had been gone months not merely hours. Aslaug hovered in the doorframe of the main hall, chin darkened with bruising. It made Gyda flinch to look at it. She knew her father had hit Aslaug, and although she had no love for her step mother she had no hatred either.

"Where were you?" Aslaug attacked as soon as they entered the hall. Gyda was not sure if she addressed her or Ragnar.

"I was listening for Bjorn at the base of the hills," She stated. Aslaug's wife sneered at her comment.

The boys played in the hall around them, climbing over chairs, reenacting some great battle of their father's. Gyda roared at her youngest brother, tickling him. She wanted to ignore Aslaug. Frustrated that she had just pitied the rude woman just moments before. Picking the boy up she swung him over her shoulder.

"Why I can't seem to find my littlest brother. Where can he be?" She laughed as the child squealed in delight.

"Gyda," Aslaug stepped forward, "Can you go to the marketplace for me? We are out of fresh fish," her step mother paused, "And take the boys with you. They are too rowdy to be cooped inside all day."

Gyda tried not to scowl at the woman's request. But it was true, they had nothing to make for dinner that evening, "Yes Aslaug. Come brothers. I think we should go kill ourselves a… dragon!" The children laughed – enjoying the teasing of their big sister.

Ragnar sat on his throne as they left, eyeing his wife wearily, "I know your thoughts. What have you come to nag me with this time woman?"

Aslaug's face twisted with frustration, "Gyda. She is not well. Her ramblings become worse. She has no prospects for a husband. And she is no fighter like Lagertha. You know these things, but you don't tell her to be quiet or to stop," She paused in front of his seat, "She stood out in the snow for hours Ragnar. And all of Kattegat saw."

Ragnar waived his hand in an almost drunken gesture, grinning, "And you think I care what everyone thinks of Gyda?"

Aslaug leaned forward, palms pressed against the wooden arms of the throne, "And who do you think will marry her? Who will care for her when you are gone?"

The king frowned, "And what do you care Aslaug? You have no love for her.."

Aslaug paused, lips trembling, "I think I can arrange some prospects for her. One's that will strengthen our bonds with some bordering jarls. I think-"

"You think incorrectly," Ragnar hissed, flinging himself from the throne, "Gyda will have a choice in who she is to marry."

His wife turned away, "I didn't say she wouldn't. We could simply ask her if she wished to marry one of the prospects."

"And how would I know that this husband of choice would treat her well? That he wouldn't hit her?" The king was sneering.

"Like you hit me?"

The room was quiet. Ragnar smiled in a taunting way that made Aslaug flinch. The comment was supposed to hurt Ragnar, but for some reason it made her feel instantly weary, the fight vanishing out of her in one fell swoop. A mere swoop of his smile was all it took to bring Aslaug to a faltering woman snatched up her skirts and walked quietly into the bedroom.

"Stupid woman," Lothbrok stated, watching her pale blonde hair sway as she walked away.

They were whispering about her. Gyda tried to ignore them by teasing her brother's and appearing interested in the bartering of fish, but she couldn't keep her eyes from darting up to catch the furtive glances. She heard it clearly then. What they were saying.

They whispered, "Angrboda."

Angrboda. Loki's mistress who birthed three monsters. Angrboda, whose name meant, 'one who brings grief.' Maybe it was true. So far her visions only spoke and predicted death. Athelstan's death. She cringed.

"Your face says the price on this fish is not a good price, but I can assure you princess it is a fine price. Look this fish is fresh-"

Gyda's hand reached out, grasping the half frozen fish by the tail, "I want it." Her features were intense enough to cause the seller to take a step backward, away from her brown-eyed gaze.

"Of course. I will roll them in a bundle for you to carry," the old man stuttered. Yes, perhaps she unnerved this man too. She felt slightly wild as she looked around the market at the staring eyes. Crazy. Evil. Monster. The eyes screamed at her.

"Here you are Gyda," The fish startled her as they were tossed into her arms, heavy and reeking of the sea.

"Come brothers," She muttered, taking her youngest brother's cart in one hand to drag him along behind her.

She had thought if they had left the market quickly the stares and whispers wouldn't follow her, but they did. She wondered if she snarled at them would they flee in fright. The children were oblivious. Her brother's cart sunk deeper and deeper in the thick mud as they walked, making her lean forward, eyes focusing on her feet. And so it was unexpected when the first rock was thrown, barely chipping her brow.

"Angrboda!" The voice was harsh and manly and completely anonymous in the crowd that had now formed around them. I trail of blood ran from her forehead to her cheek.

"Gyda!" Her oldest little brother reached forward, fists clenching in anger, "Who did that? King Ragnar will have you punished." The boy eyed the crowd as they dispersed, apparently no longer interested.

"We will go tell father!" The child cried, racing forward with his younger siblings behind him.

Yes tell King Ragnar. It would make her so, so happy for her father to hear that she was called Angrboda at the market. The young woman wanted to weep. Her father may be king but even kings cannot protect their daughters from such things as superstition and hatred. Her future was to be blamed for every death in Kattegat.

She. The one who brings grief.

"Are you alright?"

The man who stood in front of her was Asvaldr. She only knew him because he had went on the last raid to France with Ragnar. Apparently he was a brave warrior and close to her age. But there was something she did not like about him. Dark and sinister. Quiet. But smart. He was prideful and did not smile or laugh often. Handsome with his bleach blonde hair, sharp jaw line, and crystalline eyes. No one should be that combination of things.

His hand reached out to touch the small trace of blood that was now smeared across her cheek. She flinched backward.

His face followed hers until his lips reached her ear, breath warm against the side of her face, "Your name is Gyda, not Angrboda. Gy-da."

It was too personal. Almost romantic. She felt disgusted and tired and annoyed.

Learning backward, Gyda rolled back her arm, and flung her fist forward. Straight into Asvaldr's left eye.


	2. Chapter 2

"What is wrong with you?" Asvaldr bent at the waist before her, palm pressed against his darkening eye.

Gyda's hand flew to cover her lips in shock. She grimaced, "I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Here… let me see."

The woman gently guided his face to meet hers as she inspected the Viking's injury. Gyda flinched in apology. It would bruise badly, but it was nothing serious. The rest of his face however, looked quite well. She couldn't help but admire his angular bones, heavy brows, and clear eyes. He was an enchanting devil. One she didn't want to entangle herself with. Only men interested in Jarldom were interested in her. She didn't need a repeat of her last suitor.

"You can release my face now," Asvaldr whispered hoarsely into her ear.

Gyda shoved him backwards and fidgeted with her braid, "Well you'll live." She began to brush past him, hastily picking up her dress as she walked, "So if you'll excuse me."

"I think you were excused the moment you punched me," the man muttered behind her as she rushed back to the Hall.

Blood pounded in her ears as she jogged. Asvaldr was pretentious. His injury had almost made her forget why she punched him in the first place, but the smart comment at her exit helped remind her why she hit him. That smug, full of himself, arrogant, obnoxious-

"Gyda."

Ragnar Lothbrok stood inches from her, face crinkled in concern, blue eyes searching. She sighed. The boys had gone for help and sent her father to save her. Her throat tightened and jaw ached with the need to cry. Turning her head from him, she looked at the dirt path, lined with puddles of murky water and crushed snow. She wanted to melt right into it.

She was ashamed.

Ragnar took two steps forward, so close she could feel his breath on her forehead. Gently, the Viking king leaned forward so that his chin rested atop her soft blonde hair. Arms wrapped her small frame. She hung limply in the embrace, fingers still tucked in the folds of her skirt, feet sinking into the mud until it curled inside her shoes.

"Were you afraid? Is that why you cry little Gyda?" He asked gently. It was patronizing and embarrassing even though it was meant to be comforting. Ragnar often forgot she was a grown Viking woman. This display was not fit for either of them.

"No." Her voice was tart and blunt. Her father's hold loosened.

Distancing her from him, Ragnar smiled, large hands gripping her forearms, "Why this then?" The tip of his finger captured a tear that teetered on her chin.

"I am a blight to our family father," Her eyes darkened as she looked at him. The woman's soul poured out a deeper pain than just that day's incident. It was a long held pain they never had spoken of until now.

"I am an Angrboda." Her lips trembled with the confession, "And the people hate me." She paused, lowering her chin to her chest, voice husky with hurt, "And they fear me. I am ashamed for us. Because I bring bad things upon us," She breathed the last words, energy spent as she expelled a sentence held in too long.

Ragnar's eyes filled, dancing around her in avoidance of meeting her own eyes. His mouth twitched, a tell-tale for not having a reply to her outburst, "I see."

I see. She wanted to cry, scream, weep. Her father's response to the burden she was carrying was, "I see." Did he think she was a monster as well? Did he fear her too? She jerked back from him, leaving his arms to cradle the air.

When he had needed her, she had stayed. Even though he betrayed her mother, she wished to be by his side because Bjorn was with Lagertha. And he had been a sorrowful thing. She had pitied and loved him despite his many flaws. But this, it felt like betrayal and it bit at her heart.

"I should have stayed with Mother and Bjorn," It was a blow that struck hard. Ragar flinched.

How she wished Bjorn was there now. How she wished for his ability to make peace and translate her father's words into something less hard. She missed him and even in this moment worried for him. While she thought of her brother, with her emotions heightened, adrenaline pumping, it happened. The same thing that happened just before Athelstan died. She cringed as it washed over her. It pulled her down into the muddied path. The earth was cold, yet inviting. It cradled her frame, sucked against her limbs.

"Gyda." Ragnar's hand was hot upon her flesh, like fire.

'No father,' she thought. She would go and see what the gods had to tell her.

The first time she was sent, she was unprepared, but this time she knew what to expect. She braced her mind as time and space transfused and fluxed. It was nauseating. The world twisted and turned, and although there was nothing physical in this realm, she felt it all, from the tips of her toes to her head. The rules of matter and space were gone, and she was there, but wasn't there. Soon she would see what the gods wanted her to see.

The mirage began to appear, waving lines interconnecting until they created a reality around her. Her eyes felt gritty and body light, as if she could float away at any moment. The world was made of snow and ice. A blizzard raged in a forest covered in frost. The snow curved around her knees, chilling her. Her teeth chattered. She could feel him there. In this place.

"Bjorn?" She called. Gyda's voice echoed through the forest.

And there he was, suddenly just ten paces in front of her, face down in the snow. Blood melted the snow around him, creating a red crater framing his still body. His head seemed to have received the most damage, blood masking his face and creating a sheen of black over his blonde hair. But his back moved with breath. He was alive.

For now.

Gyda returned suddenly, violently gasping, arms punching into the air. Ragnar grabbed her hand, bringing his lips to kiss her knuckles. Tears rolled down his cheeks. A crowd had formed around them. She shivered.

"You had stopped breathing Gyda," His lips trembled as he spoke, "Your mouth turned blue and your flesh was icy."

The girl felt dizzy and placed a hand into the mud to steady herself, closing her eyes she replied, "It was cold there."

Ragnar closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to her stomach in limp relief. The crowd whispered a familiar tune, they sang Angrboda. But Gyda was too exhausted to care. Her father slid his hands under her back and thighs to lift her.

"Wait," She demanded, pausing the man by gripping his arm, "Bjorn is in trouble. He needs you. He's in the Forest of Jaijr."

The Jarl's eyes widened and he nodded, "I'll take you home and then I'll leave."

The crowd's whispers elevated. Gyda was struggling to make out what they were saying, but it sounded like fear and hate. She was too weak to be pained by it. Looking up at Ragnar as he carried her she sighed in relief. He would save Bjorn. His face was tight with worry, but there was no anger or shame there. Her father was not ashamed of her. Her father was not afraid of her. She was wrong earlier. Her father may think she is what the people of Kattegat say she is, but he loves her in spite of it. Perhaps his heart is most true because he does not avoid the tough questions. He hadn't avoided the idea of her being something dangerous. He didn't try to soothe her worries. He approached it head on and still embraced her.

"I love you father," She whispered into his chest.

Just before they reached the entrance to the Hall, Gyda caught a glimpse of someone following behind her father, trailing along in the bushes and trees as they walked.

It was Asvaldr


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

She was sick for three days after the spell. Weighed down with bear skin blankets and dark dreams she cried out for Bjorn, soaked in sweat, thrashing on her bed. Her younger brothers held her hand and patted her head. They wiped her brow and told her stories about their day. Aslaug stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, features expressing a mixture of annoyance and concern. Gyda also called for Ragnar Lothbrok during the sickness, but he was gone, searching for her brother. The lines of reality and fiction were blurred, and Gyda wondered if she still floated in the other realm, her nightmares portraying the real world. She hoped it was just the fever.

On the third night of her sickness, a heavy snow had bloomed into a blizzard, causing the Hall to creak and groan with the weight of the wind. The boys huddled next to the fireplace in the main hall. Gyda could hear their excited voices arguing over which god was angry with them to cause such weather. They made up stories about ice monsters and a snow serpent that attacked Kattegat. She grinned wearily at their squeals and laughter. It warmed her heart and for the first time in three days she felt clear headed. The girl sighed with closed lids, eyes too heavy to stay open.

Gyda was surprised when Aslaug's cool hand rested atop her forearm. The girl did not move as her stepmother pulled out a brush from her skirt pocket and began to gently untangle hair. It surprised her, and for reasons Gyda did not know, she continued to feign sleep. Whatever this was that was happening between them was nice, even if it was confusing.

Aslaug's husky voice spoke in a deep whisper, "I don't know what I'd do without you Gyda. How could I manage your father all on my own? Who would love the boys if something happened to me if you were to go now? You're the only pure heart in Kattegat, there is no one else I trust."

Gyda swallowed heavily, a knot tight in her throat. She wanted to hug Aslaug. She wanted to tell her how she pitied her, hated her, and… loved her. There was too much to say to the woman that stole her mother's husband and that birthed the brothers she loved. Aslaug was a good mother to her sons, but she was a terrible wife and a weak woman. But, here she was, brushing Gyda's hair with such gentleness it made the sick woman want to cry.

"I could not bear for your father to come home and find you gone. The people may call you Angrboda, but I am Ragnar's Angrboda," She kissed Gyda's forehead, her lips cold and dry against her hot and damp flesh.

Gyda shivered with the weight of heartbreak of Aslaug's words. It was genuinely the only thing a wife ever wants of a husband, to be loved.

The front door of the main hall burst open as Aslaug stood, making her stumble to her feet in surprise. Wind howled and carried snow onto the bear rug that decorated the entrance. Ragnar wavered at the door, tipped in frost, lips blue, cheeks red with Bjorn rag-dolled over his shoulder.

"Aslaug, the bed!" He yelled as he rushed forward. Gyda watched as Aslaug scurried out of the room to pull back the covers on Ragnar's bed. The sick girl struggled to raise to her elbows, body trembling. Bjorn was alive. Her father was alive. Sitting up, she slid her bare feet to the floor. The wood beams chilled her toes, a shiver dancing its way up her spine. Gingerly, she stood and on wobbly legs tottered to her father's room.

"Wake Hajr. Get the water boiling. Cover him with these. I've stopped the bleeding, he's just been too cold for too long. But he will live," Ragnar was rambling and the pace at which everyone moved made Gyda's head spin. The days of her illness had been slow and steady, time holding no real format. Coming back to the real world was mind spinning. She clutched the heavy beams of the door frame with white knuckles.

"Gyda, you were right. But he's okay, because you have the sight and you saved him. This time no one dies Gyda. You are a seer – not an Angrboda," Ragnar's eyes were bright, brimming with tears or joy or whatever inner glow he seemed to posses that made people envy and follow him. His icy hands curved around both her cheeks as he cradled her face. She was precious. A seer.

"I'm a seer and Bjorn is not dead?" It was like a dream come true. All her visions had ended in death of someone. The worst was Athelstan. But this time, what she saw changed the future for the good. She sighed in relief, leaning her back against the course wood frame of the room. Her legs wobbled and could bear her weight no longer as she slid down the wall until she was sitting, knees pressed against her breasts.

"What is wrong?" Ragnar questioned, looking down at her with concern and confusion.

Aslaug brushed past him, "She has been ill for three days, she shouldn't even be out of bed. Get up." Her stepmother dragged her to her feet, "I'll take care of her, you go stay with Bjorn. Have Hajr brew him some crysthanmum tea."

Aslaug scolded Gyda for her escape from bed as she half-carried her back. Gyda just smiled.

And as soon as the Seer's head hit the pillow she fell asleep.

The wealthiest merchant in Kattegat sauntered into the main hall the next morning. Ragnar sat on his king's seat with Aslaug next to him. Other's milled in the room, a semi-circle surrounding the throne. They were having a Thing – a moment for all the people to speak and be judged fairly. Ragnar simply facilitated, the public voted. The merchant grinned like a child in a toy shop, slick smile promising something rotten. Lothbrok grimanced, annoyed.

"And what brings Lodis Grajardar to the Hall this morning?" The Jarl, the King asked, his tone light and lilting.

Lodis smirked, "You are looking quite well Ragnar. And your children are doing much better now yes? Bjorn… and Gyda?"

King Ragnar's eyes narrowed, the topic of his oldest offspring turned the subject uneasy, "And why do you bring my children's health to attention at a Thing? What purpose?"

"There are rumors that your daughter is a Seer. For so long she was an Angrboda, because she could only state who would die – it was as if she had killed them by speaking the words, but this time is different. She predicted the future and changed the outcome," The merchant had started the conversation by speaking to Ragnar, but as the words tumbled out he turned to face the crowed in presentation of his findings. It irked the King.

Ragnar stood, claiming attention back to him, "And your point? I could have told you Gyda was not an Angrboda years ago."

Lodis turned in a half circle, hands raised with shrugged shoulders, "Well now we know."

"What is your point merchant?" The king had a temper, and Lodis was making him use it.

"Our own Seer is dying. The sight extended his life, but it has an ending. And that ending is soon. We need a Seer in our village to stay strong, to guide our paths, to steady our arms. Gyda could be that Seer. I suggest she seek out the Seer's Stone, gain control over her sight, and come back ready to serve Kattegat," He raised his voice at the end, the octave signaling a cheer from the crowd. The promise of a Seer to protect their village for another 150 years enticed them.

"No." Ragnar's voice was cold, eyes dark and seething.

The room went dead, all except for Lodis, he was not prepared to back down. He knew what he wanted. A new Seer in Kattegat would bring travel, and travelers were good for business. A Seer was great insurance for a merchant. A Seer was money.

"That is rather selfish of you, fa-ther of the Seer," He dragged out the word father, rolling it off his tongue like daggers tumbling from the hand, "Good thing this is a Thing and not a dictatorship. We will vote on it."

Ragnar slammed his fist on the arm of the elaborate chair, flinging himself from his throne he faced Lodis, nose to nose. In that moment the merchant questioned himself, there was something crazy inside Ragnar that made him want to run away – thankfully for him, his eyes only wavered for a moment.

"I will not give my daughter to the stone. It's price is too heavy-"

"What is it's price?"

Her voice was like porcelain, white and clean. The crowed shifted to watch her walk slowly to face her father and the merchant. The woman's feet were bare and she only wore a night shift. Her hair was tussled and eyes still just a bit foggy for the recent fever. Ragnar could see that her hands trembled even though they were pressed against one another in front of her stomach.

"Tell me."

It was a demand. Ragnar felt tongue-tied. He staggered back.

The merchant floated in front of her, charisma gliding off of him, rolling past her into the crowd, "No one knows the price. It is different for every Seer. The current Seer lost his eyes. His body was disfigured. The stories say that other Seers lost their ears, their voice. One Seer lost her child that grew in the womb. It is a great price, but you won't know until you consult the stone."

Gyda flinched. The cost of visiting with the ancient power source was chokingly high.

"And what exactly does the stone give?"

The merchant smiled, "You will be able to control the sight. It gives certainty, it gives clear vision, it gives timeliness. You will know most answers of the future you pursue. The gods will favor you and speak to you. Wisdom, knowledge, power."

The girl felt young in that moment. All of those things seemed like things she should want. But she didn't. She didn't event want to see the future. She didn't want power. She just wanted to stay in her father's house, taking care of her brothers, hate-loving Aslaug. Her brow furrowed.

"Will it help people?" She questioned.

Lodis's eyes widened in delight, as if the question was the one he had been waiting for, "Help people? Help people? Helping Kattegat and helping your father would be your sole purpose. You would save us from war, famine, death and disaster. You would be praised and loved. You would be high counselor. You. Would. No. Longer. Be. Angrboda."

He said the last sentence softly, like a shepherd coaxing a scared lamb, enunciating each word so that it rang true. But it wasn't quite true. Didn't her father say just last night that she already was no longer Angrboda?

"I see," She replied timidly.

The crowd grew more excited with each of Lodis's words. Ragnar had had enough.

"This is my daughter. She will do as I say," His voice echoed across the hall, making even the strongest Viking shiver with it's power.

But then, a whisper from the back of the room, perhaps from a child. It sounded like Angrboda. Then another voice, louder, that demanded a Seer. The Hall burst into sudden commotion. Fear and anger flew wild, accusations rang, and Gyda stood at the center, trembling. Ragnar roared from his chair and even Aslaug stood behind her father, supporting his words. But if the very idea of her not becoming a Seer caused this type of conflict, she feared what it would do to her family in the long run. She feared what it would do to Kattegat. And she feared what it would do to herself.

Gyda lifted herself onto the chair at the dining table, in hear loudest voice she cried into the chaos, "I will try. I will journey to the Seer's Stone and I will try to gain the knowledge it has to give. Although I am not sure of how to get there or what I am supposed to do when I arrive."

Ragnar's face stared at her from below, a deep sadness crept into his eyes as he gazed. Aslaug turned away, hands gripping the arms of her throne. And the merchant smiled warmly up at her. He reminded Gyda of a fox. The room had stilled, even the babes were soothed into silence. It was said. And now it would be done. The Seer trembled.

And then a man's deep rumble rolled from the back of the hall, he walked forward toward Gyda as he spoke, "I will show you the way and what to do. For I am the only one in Kattegat who knows it."

He reached out his hand toward her, offering to assist her in the small climb down from the chair. Recognition flashed in Gyda's eyes. Surprised, she was once again looking into the face of her father's young viking.

"Asvaldr," She breathed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

She ruffled each of their blonde heads gently, wanting to kiss them as she had when they were little, but knowing their little boy pride wouldn't stand for it. Ragnar hovered in the doorframe of the hall, his face sower, but when their eyes met he gave her an encouraging smile. She returned the same. Bjorn stood behind her, loading her horse down with blankets, water and food. And Aslaug hovered near, scolding the boys and darting worried glances at her.

"I knew," Bjorn began, "that there was a reason you were smarter than the rest of us. There was a reason you weren't meant to go a viking sister. But there's a part of me that wishes it wasn't like this." He gripped her small shoulders in his large palms, "You are certain you don't wish to reconsider?"

Gyda fidgeted under his strong gaze, "I can't think of an alternative path for my future Bjorn. I must at least go and see. See if the Seer's Stone speaks to me." She rung her hands on her skirt.

Bjorn grabbed her to his chest in a tight embrace, "I know little sister. I know. You are bravest of us all."

Aslaug sauntered toward her. Her step-mother picked at her braid until it lay prettily over her shoulder. "Come home." Was all she said. It was enough.

In the distance a white horse crested the hill, on top sat her mother. Gyda choked back a sob, she had feared word wouldn't reach Lagertha in time, but there she was, looking weathered from the travel. She had ridden hard. The beautiful Viking slid off her horse and jogged to her daughter, pulling Gyda into her arms.

"My strong daughter," Her voice was husky as she pulled away to look at her, "How proud I am of you. And how much I love you."

It had been a while since she had seen Lagertha and her heart ached to just stay, cradled and comforted in her mother's embrace. But they only had a short time to reach the Seer's Stone. The stone had to be called upon under a red moon, less than two month's away.

"All is well mother," She stated. Lagertha kissed her, whispering in her ear, "Be safe."

Another horse sounded from behind, hooves sucking and slurping in the mud. Turning, Gyda saw Asvaldr was there, prepared for their journey. His face was darker than she'd seen it when they had met in the past, as if he too had the same anxious brooding that the rest of her family was currently expressing. She scowled, wondering why out of all the handsome men in Kattegat the gods had seen fit to place her with that one. She also wondered what Asvaldr had said to her father that made him believe he could safely guide her to the Seer's Stone, but that had been in a private meeting. Ragnar had relented to the journey after speaking with Asvaldr. He must have had something big up his sleeve. She would demand answers from Asvaldr during their journey.

"It's time Gyda," Asvaldr stated.

The girl turned to say goodbye to Ragnar, but he had already vanished in the hall. She wouldn't allow herself to be disappointed. Her father dealt with fear and worry in strange ways. Mounting her horse, she waved to her family. She spotted Floki in the distance, lingering in the woods. Smiling she waved. Floki gave her a large grin. He was most excited about it all. A new Seer in the village, blessed by the gods. He was the only one there that didn't seem afraid. Floki followed the god's path like a leaf in the wind. He saw this misfortune as a blessing. Gyda wished she could as well, but today, with sky darkened in approaching storm and her family's obvious doubt and fear, she felt it was more of a curse.

She tightened the reigns, "All right, let's go."

And with that, they were off. Bjorn stood outside, watching until they became nothing but dots in the distance. The rain began.

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

They did not stop even when the horses skid and slid in the mud and Gyda's hair was plastered to her face. The storm was an angry riot around them, tugging at the trees, melting the snow, and turning the dirt into slush ponds. They were only a few hours into their journey and she was already masked in mud. The air was cold and biting, her wet clothes soaking in the frosty wind, making her feel as if she would never be warm again. Ahead of her, Asvaldr pushed forward, never once checking behind him to see if she still held pace.

Gyda hated him. She hated him for providing an avenue for her to seek the stone. She hated him for his cocky smiles and meeting up with her at the worst times. She hated him for pushing this grueling pace, knowing she wouldn't complain because of her own stubborn pride.

When night fell and her horse stumbled in the dark she had had enough.

"Asvaldr stop!" She cried, tugged the snorting beast to a halt, "This is madness – you fly like we are being pursued. It's dark and the horses cannot keep this up. We need to make camp."

Asvaldr paused, barely turning to look at her, eyes slicing over his shoulder. The half moon made the whites glow in the dark, "Are you tired Gyda?"

Another large gust of wind sent pelting rain over the woman, she scowled, and cried out angrily, "Yes, of course I'm tired. Look around Asvaldr, no sane person would continue to travel."

He grinned. It was as if he had been waiting for her to admit weakness, "Just a bit farther princess, and we'll be where we are going for the night."

Gyda snorted. Princess her ass. She feared she might accidently strangle her guide in his sleep, "I'd recommend you keeping a knife under your pillow." She muttered behind him.

Thirty minutes later Asvaldr led them to the base of a mountain, "We'll camp in here tonight, it's large enough the horses can join us."

"In where-" Gyda began, but then she saw it as Asvaldr pushed back overgrown bushes. A cave lay at the base of the cliff, just large enough for them both, a fire and their beasts. Gyda sighed. Maybe Asvaldr had been right to push for this resting spot. She felt foolish now, but there was no way she was going to show him that.

"Ahhh, Valkia, look a place for you too. Tonight you shall be warm and cozy with me," She cooed as she kissed the horse's fuzzy nose.

Gyda tied the animals as Asvaldr started a fire. Her teeth chattered. Asvaldr began undressing in front of the flames.

"What are you doing?" She blurted, staring at his naked chest. He paused, his hands wrapped around the almost unbuckled belt.

"Undressing. I'm freezing," He stated simply.

Gyda turned away, "But then you'll be naked."

Asvaldr unbuckled his belt, tossing it behind him, "That would be the point in undressing. I'm freezing. You need to undress too, your clothes are soaked."

Did he seriously just tell her to undress? "At least cover yourself." She threw a blanket at him angrily.

The man laughed, almost mocking, "You've never been with a man before have you? I thought being a daughter of Ragnar and already your age you'd have slept with at least a few men…"

Gyda felt flustered. Who was he to talk about her love life. So what if he was right about it... "What does not wanting to see you naked have to do with me being with another man? And also, this is none of your business. I'm sure you've slept with countless women. I bet you'd sleep with anything with two legs." She huffed, her come back poor and she knew it. She was never skilled in speaking with men. Especially Asvaldr. He just made her want to pull her hair out. Or maybe she just wanted to pull his hair out.

"Maybe." His eyes twinkled, then sobered, "But use that blanket to cover and undress underneath if you're uncomfortable. You can't sleep in wet clothes. I'll do the same." He wrapped the cloth around as his waist as he shed his pants, socks and shoes. Pulling the blanket over his shoulders he scooted closer to the flames.

The woman sighed. Asvaldr somehow always came out right, "Asshole." She muttered, but did as he asked. The blanket felt scratchy against her bare skin. She let down her wet hair so it would dry.

Asvaldr stared at her across the fire. She was a beautiful woman, with her hair spilling out around her shoulders. The blanket curled around her, showing off her curves, the slit giving a glorious view of her porcelain white thigh and dipping lower than she realized at her chest. She had been right, he had been with many women, but none like her. She captivated him. He couldn't stay away from her. He had become an idiot, even volunteering to take her to the last place he ever wished to visit again. But, better him than another, he could protect her. He had a plan to save her.

She slid to lay down, curling on her side, eyes growing weary as they gazed at the fire. He followed her to do the same. It was like they were laying next to one another, only parted by fire.

"Goodnight Gyda." He whispered. Soon she was fast asleep. He lay watching her deep into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Gyda struggled to remember where she was when she woke. The cave was damp, smoke spiraling up from the cooling campfire. Her skin was chilled and her hair and eye lashes felt crunchy in the morning chill. Once the sleep cleared from her mind she remembered. She was off on a quest to find the Seer's Stone to gain control of her sight. A stone that would also exact payment as cost for the sight. She shivered. A plate of still warm roasted fish sat to her left - Asvaldr's doing, but he was not in sight.

"Asvaldr?" Gyda called, voice loud inside the small cave.

Gripping the fish in one hand, Gyda began to pack up their belongings and nibble on breakfast. The fish left her hands sticky and greasy, but it didn't matter. No one was here to see, and she sure didn't care what Asvaldr thought. After ten minutes of tidying, the fish was consumed and she still waited. It seemed like a long period for just scouting the area or taking a piss or whatever he was doing. Within another ten minutes Gyda's hair was plaited, a braid that swung at waist length and the horses were fed and watered. Gyda's hairs prickled, he wouldn't have gone far without his horse. It didn't make sense what was taking so long.

Stepping outside, the day had bloomed warmer than the last. No rain clouds in sight. She sighed in relief. She wasn't positive she could do two days in a row of the previous day's weather. Gripping her bow and an arrow, she mounted, Asvaldr's horse tied behind them. While she wasn't a warrior like the rest of her family, she was exceptional with a bow. It was her one athletic ability that trumped even her father's. But, she couldn't use a broad sword to save her life and her weapon of choice lacked in close range combat. Scouting the area she found her guides tracks, some over turned leaves, broken sticks, but no other signs of him. After an hour of searching Gyda decided to return to the cave in hopes that they were just missing one another in passing. Shouting to the east made her still in her trek back.

"He should have been dead already, what are you waiting for?" It was a low hoarse voice, darkened with deadly intent.

Quietly dismounting she tied the horses and pulled her bow to the ready. Crouched, Gyda moved forward under the cover of foliage and trees until the clearing came into view. The viking woman sucked in breath. Four men surrounded Asvaldr, who was now bound, kneeling at their feet. The few small valuables he had on his person were stripped, scattered at his feet. Looters. Thieves. The four men ranged in ages, all in a sort of decay - clothing old and tattered, teeth rotting, skin filthy.

"What are you waiting for Roki, kill him," The youngest man spat.

The man who Gyda assumed to be Roki kneeled to meet Asvandr's gaze. &Who is travelling with you?& The words were whispered in a delicate way the made Gyda tremble.

"No one is with me. I am travelling alone." Asvaldr looked up for the first time as he spoke, signs of fighting showed in the busted lip and blackened cheek.

Roki smiled, and turned to pace in front of her traveling partner, "No, no, no. I don't think so." The thief held up a strip of leather that she used to bind her plaited braid. Feeling along her braid she noticed it missing, after having just tied it this morning.

"While we were walking, I saw you slide this woman's binding under a branch with your foot. Clearly you didn't want us to notice it. She must have lost it recently, still be nearby," The man smirked, "And look, two sets of fresh horse tracks. One horse for you and the other for your female friend."

Asvaldr stood his ground, eyes meeting Roki's, "I don't know whose that is, I didn't travel with a horse, it's someone else, not a part of my party."

"Liar." Roki said, sending a sharp punch to Asvaldr's gut.

Asvaldr grunted, doubled, gasping in pain.

Roki pulled out his sword, an ugly, rusted weapon. "Well, I think Asger, you were right. We should just kill him since he's not willing to be more accomodating."

The sword was lifted overhead, speckled rust spots and silver glinting in the midday sun. Gyda also raised her bow. The arrow was true, a thwump into the villian's chest. The sword fell, Asvaldr rolled away, Roki's body folded, and the three remaining men dived for cover. Gyda was able to catch one of the other men in the back as he fled.

"Two left," She breathed.

Leaning against a tree she pulled out another arrow from her back sack, notching it silently. Running in a crouch, she moved forward, eyes searching. By now they could be behind her, her back no longer safe. Tree bark scratched against her cheek as she leaned forward, peaking around it's trunk. Nothing. Turning back she leaned to glance the other way. She barely had time to breath before she notched and shot her third arrow. It caught Asger in the neck just two feet away. If she hadn't turned when she did he would have caught her. Blood spurted from the artery, spraying hot liquid at her feet. She closed her eyes for just a moment to control her breathing.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

The last man was wirey, lanky between the ages of 18 and 30. He was silent during the entire exchange, and Gyda couldn't measure his personality from the short interaction. She wasn't sure what to expect from him. She needed to reach Asvandr, untie him and give him her dagger that was tucked inside her left boot. Two against one were much better odds.

The sun sparkled through the tree branches, birds sang. It was a very pretty day. Too pretty for death. It made the entire thing seem unreal. Never in Gyda's life had anyone tried to kill her. She'd always been tucked safely in Kattegat. Safely beneath her father's wing. And although she had been taught to kill, trained along with the other children, she was never expected to be a warrior. Everyone saw her daintiness, her delicacy and knew she wouldn't go on the raids, or follow in her mother's footsteps. But here she was, living out her Viking bloodline.

The last man charged, close, too close to shoot before he rammed into her. Straddling her his large hands clasped her neck, fingers pressing until breath would not leave or enter. She was surprised he had no weapon on him, but his advantage in body weight and strength was weapon enough. She scratched at his eyes, and beat him with her fists. Feeling along the pine needles and loose earth, her fingers searched for anything to fend him off. Finally falling upon an uneven rock, sharp edges digging into her palm. With the last of her strenght she slammed the rock into her attacker's temple. His finger's slackened instantly, body limp against her own. Gasping and chocking she shoved him off, lowering her head between her knees. She felt sick.

Asvaldr appeared then, still bound, gasping for breath, falling to his knees by her seated form, "Are you alright? Are you injured?" His eyes were searching, bound hands gliding over her limbs.

"Yes," Her voice barely above a whisper, scratchy from her recently bruised throat.

"Your neck," He scowled, fingers lingering on her already darkened flesh, "Are they all dead?"

"Yes," She said again, lifting her head as if she just noticed him, "Are you alright?"

He laughed then, a deep rumbling, "You just fought four men and you are asking me if I'm alright," He waived his hands in the general area of his face, "This is nothing. You've done worse."

She grimaced.

"Untie me," He demanded, still smiling at his own joke.

She untucked and unrolled the rope with delicate hands, releasing him. They both sat for a moment, the damp earth seeping into their pants, chilling them both. Gyda spoke first, shivering.

"I've never killed anyone before. Today I killed four."

Asvaldr looked at her sharply, surprised. Most Viking's had killed before their eighteenth birthday. It was rare to find a Viking as inexperienced as Gyda. An innocent.

Not innocent anymore.

Even if it was their people's way, a Viking's first kill as never easy. It tended to leave a bad taste in one's mouth and haunt dreams. Most quickly grew out of it, overcame their emotions. Asvaldr felt that Gyda would not. She was the type of person who would carry each death with her for the rest of her life. Only their second day together and he had already failed to protect her.

"I'm sorry Gyda."

Gyda smiled gently, trying to push past the melancholy, "I'm too old anyway - to not have my first kill. My mother would be celebrating right now."

"Should we press on?"

He had thought about going back to their cave for the day, after all the excitement. But with neither of them truly injured there would be no point. They still had half a day to travel before dark.

"Yes. Let's press on."


End file.
